Restless Origins
by mundaneepitome
Summary: It was a natural cycle of things. People died, and left only broken promises. What if Tsuna was raised by the mafia? Alternate Universe.
1. Chapter 1

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Restless Origins

Chapter 1

* * *

There was a nice cool darkness. Encased, enwrapped, he felt warm and solid. There was a sense of security within him and he heard sounds.

There were many sounds, some higher pitched than others, but the vibrations made him feel a little bit of pleasure. When they left however, he was left alone again. It didn't matter to him though. He felt the rhythmic pattern and the ever present gentle sound, and then soft vibrations.

And then, astounding light and loud noises. A sudden hurt, and then he was screaming.

--

He was born on the fourteenth day of the tenth month.

It had not been a particularly exciting event. He was given his name and brought up to Don of the Vongola Famiglia before he was even an hour old. It had, however, been a memorable one. Time had seemed to stop as the young newborn child glanced up at the man whose arms he was held in. The gentle flame flickering against the man's forehead was a beautiful sight and little hands reached up to touch it.

"Why, hello there, Tsunayoshi. It's very nice to meet you."

The first thing he would ever remember as kindness would be that kind smile. That was also the last for a very long time.

--

It was in his nature to be soft-hearted and shy. While Timoteo would have taken measures to prevent that change, they were the mafia, and the sooner Tsuna learned what he was now growing up into, the better, so he employed all his men to take care of the child upon sight.

The appearance of a child in the Vongola headquarters was nothing short of blasphemous, and Timoteo's men did not take kindly, despite their best intentions to their Don. They were killers, and a reminder of an innocent haunting on them day and night did nothing for them except make their moods darker and their hatred for themselves even more. Many made horrible mistakes. To remedy this, Timoteo sent for a trustworthy Mafioso to take Tsuna in, but by then, it was already too late.

The presence of Timoteo's blood relation was already well known throughout the Underground, and many sought to eliminate the potential heir. One less of Vongola was one less future threat to worry about.

Mafia dealt with cards that were easily eliminated. The fact that Timoteo had been careless enough to reveal his grandson was more than stupid. It showed that the Vongola was getting weaker – they could take advantage now, they could destroy one of the most powerful Famiglia there was. Vongola had many enemies and the allies it had was mostly due to intimidation and fear, unlike respect, honour or friendship.

Tsuna, unaware of the conflicts of those around him – or even lack of, spent his first year learning how to run instead of learning to crawl and moving on from that. While the Mafioso may have been responsible, the man was by no means a genius when it came to children. He figured – and it was a good thing he did too – that the faster this child learned to run, the better chance of survival Tsuna would gain – provided Tsuna established a fear of everything.

That fear was easily taken care of. Tsuna was shy and fearful of new things and he did not like change. He was not allowed outside, so it was just as well. He followed his caretaker everywhere, shyly looking and glancing at the work before turning back to the mafioso.

Unfortunately, with this, Tsuna also became fearsomely dependent on others. He couldn't go to sleep without someone to carry him and slowly pace while rubbing circles on his back. He always wanted to be carried and wanted to be talked to. He always wanted to play at the worst of times, and always expected the other person to know what he wanted. Tsuna didn't like learning new things, so he refused to learn how to read and write – but he did like being read to. There were so many things – Tsuna was growing spoiled though.

It soon became very inconvenient. His caretaker was loyal to Timoteo and most certainly had grown to like this little boy. However, he was still a Mafioso at heart, and the instant he had joined the mafia, his heart had become with it. He gradually began to leave Tsuna on his own, in the desperate attempt to get away from the unfamiliar and return to that soothing, mechanical motion of pulling the trigger.

At first, Tsuna cried. He started wailing and wouldn't shut up for hours on end. The neighbours started getting involved, and the Mafioso had no choice but to report to Timoteo his own failures.

Child-rearing was not for everyone, but Timoteo was less than happy. His own job was hardly suitable for allowing allocated time to raise a child whose whims changed from one to another once boredom struck. That, and a Don's job was rather...psychologically disturbing for normal people, and for a _child_ barely able to _speak_ of all things... Timoteo most certainly loved this little boy, but he knew his duties.

After a long decision, Timoteo gave Tsuna a gun and brought him to a room. It was white on all four sides, with a single man kneeling in the center, blindfolded. His hands were tied behind him, and his arms and legs were bound. He was leaning forward, breathing heavily and sweat poured down his brow.

Tsuna instantly hid behind Timoteo's pants and started to cry, but Timoteo calmly knelt down beside him.

"Come here, Tsunayoshi." Old, calloused hands gently gripped the much heavier gun properly into Tsuna's grip.

In an instant, the near-dead man was wide awake and screaming furiously. Whatever he said was purposefully ignored but Tsuna started to cry harder and harder until the man's fiendish and hellish roars were directed at him.

Tsuna wanted to run, Tsuna wanted to hide. Timoteo did not allow for that, and the Mafioso who had taught Tsuna to walk came in and quieted the little boy down, handing the gun back to Timoteo who stepped back to wait. Timoteo called for someone to silence the man still kneeling, and then all was silent. There were only soft murmurs of empty words, and a carry, and a slow pacing around the room.

Tsuna was not allowed to sleep because soon after he had calmed down, Timoteo took him away and replaced the gun in his hands. Realizing the intent, the Mafioso said nothing, merely bent down to Tsuna's level and catching the child's eye.

"Shoot, Tsunayoshi-sama." The man murmured. When Tsuna looked up at him, wide-eyed and brown eyes swimming with fear and tears, the Mafioso said nothing but demonstrated with his own index finger. Tsuna unconsciously did the same thing.

...And that was how Tsuna killed the first person he ever killed.

--

But through time, after two more years of this, two years after the Mafioso that had raised him had been killed, Tsuna stopped crying completely. He stopped talking, he stopped begging for hugs and words. But what was most important to this story was that Tsuna stopped _interfering._ It was to the point that he no longer cared.

He grew up like this. He wouldn't touch or question anything or everything. He learned that doing something was better than being punished. He grew to fear Vongola Nono, and he grew to be wary of all the Mafioso around him. He grew up expecting death; he grew up with nightmares that would shock him up to the point he'd break out in cold sweat just remembering.

Tsuna learned things. He learned to survive, how not to infuriate someone. He learned to be indifferent – perhaps he _was_ indifferent.

It wasn't until he turned five that Tsuna had made the complete transformation from that shy, attention-wanting little boy.

And it wasn't until he turned five that Timoteo finally had no choice but to send Tsuna into hiding, accompanied by one Mafioso to raise him as a side job.

--

By then, however, it had grown a bit too late.

Tsuna didn't care for who named him, who birthed him and who carried him crying. He didn't care that he must've been the most obedient child in history, speaking nothing, obeying everything and questioning nothing. Without an actual birth certificate, or his birth having been seen through by legal doctor, he had to be kept indoors.

His guardian was a strict Mafioso who did not care for children. It was to no surprise on anyone's part that he was often left to spend many days and hours alone in the small two room apartment they shared. It was a fairly cheap one, without many windows, located near the northern border of Italy to France. The colder climate was easily felt with the lack of proper insulation in the winters, but he adjusted and took it without complaint.

To entertain himself, he watched the silent flow of everything, as he leaned back against a wall and stared at the other blank wall. The apartment had not been furnished—it was not for someone to live in luxury for—it was a safehouse, a place where its only purpose was for a shower and a change of clothes. There were often times that different Mafioso came stumbling in, but he said nothing to them, and ignored them. They in turn, ignored him and it worked for some time.

He let his ears constantly hear the habitual ticking of the battery clock on the wall above him. He learned how to spend hours on end looking at nothing in particular, thinking of practically nothing. He probably would've spent his entire life like this. Then, one day, he heard the most amazing sound.

Like a cannon shooting out and the sudden burst of lightning.

It was loud, shocking, and it startled him to the point that his eyes were wide and he was half on his knees, hands scrambling at something. He was prepared to run away, but when no movements, no sound followed, he slowly relaxed to a sitting position. Still, he could not wrap his mind around this strange sound.

His own curiosity got the better of him that day, and heaving himself to sit upon the rusted metal balcony so he could see better, he saw something.

Sawada Tsunayoshi was seven years old the second time he saw someone die, and he watched until the police came and left. For some reason, he was unable to look away, and soon came back to it well after they had gone home.

--

He had never seen such blood. The last time had been a long time, and while it had been engrained in his memory to the point he knew exactly where it splattered and what patterns it made and where, there was nothing like experiencing it again.

Tsuna drew his lips in a thin line and traced the pattern of the blood splatter against the brick wall below, across from his apartment, with his eyes. The gunshot had been a fatal wound – no doubt it had been close to or about point-blank range. There had to be only one other person, because there showed signs of a struggle that wouldn't have been done as carelessly with a group—or if it had, the group couldn't have been more careless. That, or they were genius to have made it this far.

The dead body was slumped in a half sitting position against the wall. In an intricate pattern, Tsuna noticed, was how the head had seemed to blow up from the nose and then spread onwards. He marvelled at the decency of the job.

He had never been involved in elimination missions, warning missions to other Mafioso or traitors, but he knew it from repetition. Tsuna would often let his caretaker rant to him, and offer little words of rebuke. From this, he would've learned about the whole world, had the time permitted. Either way, Tsuna knew the current happenings whenever his guardian had taken a suitable bath and had relaxed with two beers.

The sudden unlocking of the door made Tsuna's blood freeze and his eyes instantly flickered to the doorknob straight across the room. It was now turning, and without a moment's hestitation, Tsuna slipped down and off from the balcony, quietly clambering down to below the balcony. The concrete was weak from age, but Tsuna found the familiar holes he had found a long time ago, and slid his fingers in.

Hanging there, he waited quietly, ears listening. If it turned out that it was another police raid, they would be sad to find out that it was just an ordinary apartment with rather suspicious intentions. For example, who didn't bother decorating the house, but had a closet full of assorted clothes, and barely enough items to call the place home?

Still, Tsuna mused, they'd be stupid to have realized this and gotten it right. If they were smart, they'd think something else entirely, assuming it wasn't the obvious. After all, they considered the person renting it to be of the poor side. Though that didn't explain the clothes, it probably was a group of people sharing it.

Tsuna wondered what would happen should he let go. The other balconies below had broken during time, and had disappeared. So now, there was only one balcony, and Tsuna was hanging with his feet dangling below him, five stories above the ground.

"Oi. Brat." The familiar voice called out to him, and Tsuna listened attentively. "I'm back. You monkeying around again?"

After listening for a while and deeming it safe, Tsuna finally clambered back over onto the balcony, where his caretaker was waiting.

"I don't monkey." He told him. "Stupid jerk."

"So I leave you for two months and you learn how to rebuke like an idiot. Good job." It was sarcasm, but it escaped Tsuna entirely. He learned to accept words as they came, and if possible, read the meanings behind it. There was a smile on his guardian's face, a bit of pride. Then, shaking himself out of his reverie, Tsuna's guardian spoke again. "By the way, I got you something."

"Something?" Tsuna was surprised to the point that he said it out loud without thinking. Flushing red as his guardian laughed, Tsuna settled for biting his lip.

"Here." An item was tossed to him and Tsuna caught it with ease, having to jump a little and land with a tumble because the landing was too sudden. Tsuna scowled as hands clapped at his acrobatic performance, and turned his moody attention back to the crudely wrapped, lumpy shaped item. He looked back up at his guardian. "Yeah, you can open it. It's your present, anyway."

Present? Tsuna blinked, before wandering to the battered old coffee table and setting it down there. He kneeled on the floor, slowly removing the newspapers that had the comics pages on them – last week, he noted – and then the absurd item finally became known.

"..." Tsuna had no idea what it was.

His guardian sighed, running a hand through greasy black hair. "It's a paperweight. You can throw it at people or something if you don't want it—just not at me, of course."

"...why?"

"Well, uh, I don't know. But, hey-! This is from Mexico, real cool, isn't it? They painted it all neat and stuff, so I thought you'd like a bit of culture into your life, y'know?"

Tsuna nodded slowly, and rewrapped the gift. He hefted it in his palms, weighting it before stating quite monotone and rudely: "Five pounds."

"Yeah. Got it from a contac—"

Tsuna calmly strode to the balcony, and clambered up to stand on top of the railing around the balcony. He judged the distance to the corpse below and threw it down. It exploded at the second story level and the dead body below was completely incinerated, leaving only minute traces of blood as to the proof there had been something indeed. Tsuna was not very pleased to see it also messed up the little patterns of blood specks flying. Still, it didn't matter to him.

"It's a bomb." Tsuna spoke smoothly, sliding his way past his shocked guardian. "Hot woman?"

"Shut up!" His guardian growled, but before his guardian could get any more defensive, he perked up. "Hey, kid, got some news for you from the Don. By the way, I don't like that tone of language, and I won't ask how you learned that, but don't use it in front of me, at least."

Tsuna ignored everything else except one. "Vongola?"

"Know any other dons—wait, don't answer that. I know you study like mad, you little freak. Anyway, yeah, it's the Don."

Tsuna was taken aback, but the surprise quickly left his face and was schooled with more reasonable features. "How come?"

His guardian shrugged. "No idea, kid, but he wants you by tomorrow. It's time for your nap, anyway. Two o'clock—you've been waiting for me to tuck you in?"

Tsuna ignored him and pulled out the blankets off the couch. "You can't have them." He said, which would've been rather childishly had his voice not been so monotone it was like a tired mother telling that to her child. "I'm gonna sleep."

"Sweet dreams, kid."

And in that dream, Tsuna dreamed of guns and a blind-folded man in the center of a dark room. There was a single lightbulb, dirt and old, hanging from the ceiling. The man was sitting on a chair, his hands bound behind his back, and his arms, torso and legs bound to the chair. There was were shackles on the man's bare wrists and ankles and the shackles were attached to...something Tsuna couldn't see.

"Tsunayoshi, come here." There was the familiar echo-like sound, gentle yet layered. Then, another one came, but this was different, harsher, like the person wore their heart on their sleeve. "Shoot, Tsunayoshi-sama."

Tsuna woke up slowly, sweating, but as he reclaimed his surroundings as he slowly sat up. In the darkness, there was a hint of moonlight streaming in from the closed balcony doors, and Tsuna saw the light hit some features of his guardian's face. Enough to recognize him, but not enough for someone who didn't know him to describe him.

Tsuna raised his arm and jabbed a finger towards his guardian, thumb sticking up.

He pulled the trigger.

"Bang."

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END Chapter 1.


	2. Chapter 2

Wah, it's Tsuna's birthday today-! Well, not today but for the fourteenth of this October. I didn't want to do anything else – I'm an impatient person, and I have still not looked up any reference books for the mafia. Am I not horrible?_ ...why am I writing like this?_

Happy birthday, Tsuna, my style has changed because of you, but no hard feelings between either one of us!

I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint you all. Many thanks to: _Emotive Gothika, Maya, Hikair, Ginpachi-sensei, NeoGene, plummy-kins, Naome 666, Anave Lipad_, and _CH0C0CANDYZ_ for your reviews, and to those who alerted or faved this story.

If there's anything you find confusing or completely contradictory or anything at all as the story progresses: Let me know and thank you very much!

* * *

Restless Origins

Chapter 2

* * *

There was a consistent noise, a light yet solid one, almost like someone was snapping their fingers again in again. It was in a rhythm, almost like the insistent ticking of a grandfather clock's pendulum, never speeding up or slowing down. Tsuna had never heard it before, but he knew he liked it. There was something about this that made him calm.

Around him was clear darkness – it was almost like a blanket, but Tsuna felt no warmth. He briefly wondered about how his whole body could feel numb yet... It was though he wasn't held down by gravity anymore; there was a strange feeling to it.

He looked down at his hands, clenched into fists. On them were some type of gloves that Tsuna did not recognize, and around them there seemed to be a fire, a sort of flame. A nagging feeling in the back of his mind murmured _familiar – know it, always have – _before Tsuna realized what he was looking at.

It made him recoil for a moment, before he realized that it did not hurt. Even then, he was curious, tilting his head slightly and leaning to one side as he inspected it.

Tsuna fell. He didn't realize that whatever stepping had been lost until the fear of not knowing caught up to him. There was no feeling of ground beneath him, only air rising up to push against him, and there was a panic.

Eyes wide open and his whole body tingling with want to curl into a little ball and _stop_ _falling_ – Tsuna woke up.

--

Tsuna had been used to dreams like these, but he'd been trying not to. The sheer concept that he was _imagining_ the impossible while asleep put everything he knew to the limits. You weren't supposed to dream because dreams meant things that you wanted. You weren't supposed to want anything because you had to focus, you had to know everything and to do that, you had to study.

Even everything had its problems. For Tsuna, studying wasn't books or papers. He did what he could.

His learning was decidedly different from other children his age, yet so similar. It was watching, listening, hearing. It was reading into the actions and the emotions, understanding the process between that. However, he didn't go about asking questions or speaking if he could help it – it was only with his caretaker he did that.

It was a selfish thing that Tsuna allowed himself to have. Just one.

One little selfish thing. It was like trying to understand himself. It was far too difficult to perceive why.

--

He was sweating again. That and he had just had another dream. Dreams were certainly interesting enough because it left Tsuna something to think about when there wasn't anything to think about. But he really was starting to dislike them. Waking up in the middle of night, when he could be sleeping...it wasn't very practical.

It wasn't something that Tsuna liked doing, though he supposed it couldn't be helped, accepting it as another fact he'd have to live with. He sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, a tired frown on his face as he squinted into the darkness. Other than that, he made no inclination as to what he was feeling.

Pulling a little at his collar, Tsuna pulled his shirt from sticking to his skin, and let go. He leaned back, letting his hands behind him to support himself as Tsuna let himself take in the cool night air. While this was happening, his mind briefly questioned something.

That was funny. Where was the breeze coming from?

Almost automatically, Tsuna glanced towards the balcony doors, where they should've been closed. Moonlight was lighting everything through the windows, and through that, Tsuna could see in this otherwise closed room. The bulletproof glass windows were open; and he registered the threat with uncanny precision.

Tsuna willed his heart to calm, and he took in quiet breaths of air. His heart was beating rapidly, louder and louder until he could hear it in his ears. His outlook may have been calm and ready to pounce like a cat, but he most certainly was not. Licking his lips, he brought up his hand to his face to try to see it. He couldn't, and it wasn't that Tsuna hadn't let his eyes adjust. He hoped that whoever was here had the same visibility as he did, with one advantage to him – they probably were well aware of the layout, but Tsuna's caretaker was nowhere to be seen.

It could've just been that the man had shifted in his sleep out of the moonlight, or the moon had shifted somewhere in the sky. Tsuna also considered the possibility of – ah, that made sense. He was not very happy with this, but considering that this place was about to be raided, there was no helping it.

Tsuna brought his legs under him, prepared to leap for it. His eyes flickered from one side to another, as his body unconsciously held its breath, muscles bunched and ready to spring. Tsuna was not above running for it – he knew his body's capabilities, as you would, if you'd never trained it, never used it well enough.

He was small enough to be able to fit under several spaces and crawl into many others. The entire blueprint of the building had been looked at several times when his caretaker had been away.

For some reason, Tsuna found himself wanting to call out that man's name, but he couldn't remember what it was. It wasn't surprising, as there had never been a need or want to. But it startled him in a way: this almost cold empty feeling, numb and unnerved.

In the still darkness, there was no movement. Tsuna knew that on the couch, he was out of the viewpoint from anyone who could've come in. Unless they had been previously told of him – Tsuna doubted that

There was a cough. Immediately, Tsuna reacted, his right hand throwing the blankets up into the air to provide a cover. The effect of that was instantaneous as gunshots blasted the air with loud bangs—Tsuna didn't even hesitate as he stumbled past the intruders to the doorway – the balcony doors weren't to be used—Tsuna had no way of escaping from that way.

Before he could make it to the door, a rough, large hand grabbed him by the upper arm, jerking him back roughly. Tsuna was about to struggle when a familiar voice smoothed over to his. "I will break you if you misbehave." His caretaker. "Why the hell did you run?"

There was a heavy scent like musk in the air, and Tsuna found his eyes wandering down behind the man, where he could feel the wet sticky and warm something that was now oozing onto the hard wooden floorboards. It was a metallic taste just from the smell.

The moonlight shone that night, upon his guardian's solemn face, as the man pulled Tsuna away from the apartment.

Tsuna still didn't answer the question even then.

--

The darkness seemed to wrap everything around them; long shadows from the white moonlight were the only things that Tsuna was well aware of. Their movements had not been anything close to running, but the rough pull when Tsuna could not catch up to longer strides made him give out several cries. They stopped several times, his caretaker pulling Tsuna into several small alleys or sections of the buildings hidden behind others—shoving Tsuna right against the ground, as close as possible to the shadows.

Now in an alleyway that Tsuna did not recognize—having not left a home he had been in for quite some time, the sounds of night life scared him in an unimaginable way. His hands twitched, cold, and his bare feet were beginning to blister and skin was falling off from his scrapes. His body was far too young and sensitive, having not been honed or trained to anything—the Mafioso with him did not think much of it.

"Ah...fucked up bad." His caretaker grumbled, fishing in his pockets for what Tsuna supposed was a cigarette. "Didn't think they'd catch up so damn fast—stupid."

"_What did you do?_" Tsuna couldn't understand why his own voice was quietly restrained with an emotion he didn't recognize. He felt it to be a sudden squeezing of his heart, like everything was trying its hardest to be let out. He felt choked in ways he couldn't understand, and he felt constrained, suffocated. "_What did __**you**__**do**_?"

"I didn't do anything. Honest. Just, well," Having found a crushed packet with only a few cigarettes left, the Mafioso stuck one in his mouth, rolling it across his lips with his tongue until it was at the side of his mouth. Tsuna watched the motion almost scrutinizing, things and feelings he didn't know, haunting him not to look away. "I don't know, had some fun? Give me a break – I'm a healthy guy."

Tsuna's heart dropped. The man hadn't honestly—

His caretaker shrugged, finding his light in his back pocket, before glancing up at Tsuna and then giving a growl.

Before Tsuna knew what happened, he was slammed against the wall; his chest felt like it was going to be crushed against the strong grip. Tsuna's cheek was stinging, hard, and it...pained. There was a feeling he didn't understand. Like he wanted to do something but didn't know what. He was confused and paralyzed, stunned, and unable to speak or think. His mind was a total blank as his caretaker looked down at him.

"...you. Will not look at me like that." The voice was rough and had Tsuna not heard the man say it, he would not have believed it to be him.

Tsuna couldn't reply, couldn't breathe, looked only wide-eyed and unable to think. He felt the sickening crunch of something snapping before his mind caught up with his body.

Pain.

Pain.

_Unbearable._

_Bad._

_**Pain.**_

Before he could let out a scream, a gag was thrust into his mouth and Tsuna nearly choked. His vision swam, and he felt his whole body give into it, until the sensation of broken fingers caught up to him and overwhelmed his mind. Being a child, kept indoors all his life, Tsuna had never had a danger happen to him in his life. There was fear and that, but physical hurt had never been a part. Apparently, the Mafioso thought it was high-time someone kicked the boy off the seat of ignorant luxury and into reality.

The man's face loomed dangerously near, without a hint of anything remotely human in his eyes. "Are we _clear_?" The way he said it said that if Tsuna wanted his fingers to get fixed, it meant Tsuna had to obey. "I asked you. Answer."

Tsuna's hair was grabbed roughly, and his head was forced up.

"You're not in a fucking daycare. _If __**you**__ die,_ then it's over. No one wants to be Family to a coward."

--

They went to a warehouse, then. His caretaker didn't care for anything of Tsuna's requirements, and Tsuna had to keep up or have his heart blindingly pound with fear. The sounds of the night scared him – and Tsuna realized exactly how huge the world was.

The warehouse was huge. Of course, warehouses in general were huge in themselves. Tsuna had never been one in his life, so it could be excused for a first time. He ran his eyes over what he could see, his field of view blocked by several large stacks of boxes. A large general area, with dirt and dried blood on the tiles – on the ceiling were old light bulbs that were flickering every so often, hanging down by old wires that were beginning to fray and lamp coverings that barely passed the light down below. Tsuna's stomach quenched in repulse and a shiver ran down his spine.

On his own, Tsuna would be lost. He knew very well that he was not mentally prepared for reality. He knew that there were more dangerous things out there, far more than he'd ever comprehend. Even what he knew about the mafia was only one of the many layers – there was so much more to it than merely murder and illegal doings, though those _were_ an integral part of a successful Famiglia.

"Don't move." Was the stiff order, and Tsuna was roughly brushed past as his caretaker strode angrily through the door at the other end of the warehouse. With only a cracked and dusty window to it, as well as an age-old earthy brown wooden door, the slam that followed echoed into the large vicinity. There was silence as the dishevelled dust settled back down onto the ground.

As soon as several minutes passed, it felt like he'd lifted whatever covers was on his ears, gotten rid of whatever had kept him aloof on stability and firm control. Tsuna was suddenly aware of the buzzing the old generators above were making, how small he felt in this large space.

Children his age would've been running out doors and being a general nuisance. Children his age would've been little brats who couldn't tell orange from yellow. Children...who went to school, went to properly learn, went to know exactly everything – they were protected, they were sheltered.

Tsuna hadn't thought that he'd _be_ one of them. At the stifled realization that all the sounds became louder and his blood was running cold, he felt exactly that. What was supposed to be the proper reaction? What was something like this supposed to be reacted to, without being looked upon disapprovingly?

Time spent alone had managed to drill such things in his head. And...Tsuna suddenly wanted to be one of those children he'd heard so much about. His grit teeth made a little sound his throat as though he was trying not to burst crying or shout at the same time.

His eyes cast wildly through the warehouse, dimly lit – there were barely any passages to walk though with all the cargo and wooden boxes of various shapes, and it was dark – not quite like at the apartment, but dark, with no moonlight, no feeling of _safe._ There were open boxes scattered, as well as some crow bars and other various things.

Tsuna felt his throat tighten as well as his stomach, but he could not draw his eyes away. Before he knew it, he was drawn to a particular device on the ground, crudely assembled, but familiar. His hands took them in on their own, positioning them familiarly around the handle, fingers moving to accommodate the much larger size. His whole body remembered with each pained bend and shifting of his hand's muscles, reliving the experience before the caretaker had set them back relentlessly without much care.

His mouth felt dry and he swallowed unwillingly, stunned. This was the same gun from long ago. Tsuna was sure of it. But what was it doing out here, where there was no need for anything like this? Or maybe there _was_ a need—but what happened to the one man who this gun had belonged to.

"...I see..." He whispered, and pressed it back into the confines of the wooden crate, where his fingers touched other metals. All of them were cold and shaped, just like the gun he had had in his hands a couple of seconds ago. None of them, however, were what he recognized.

His fingers twitched for some reason, and almost automatically, Tsuna brought them over in front of his face. They weren't lightly scarred, but they weren't completely calloused, either. There were some scabs there, and Tsuna's right hand was twisted and fingers swollen and tough and thick. They looked foreign to him, purple and blue, pudgy and unable to move. It was a harsh reminder of what had occurred back in the alley. His hands shook with something that was not fear, a completely foreign emotion.

The feeling of being rammed into a brick wall – knocking the wind out of him made Tsuna tense. The feeling of pain and anger made his breathing unnatural and short. The feeling of wanting to see that man drop, blood running out like a slow facet, an unrecognizable expression on his face made him stare wide-eyed at the pile of guns. A shivering smile came upon his face, as he felt his face, remembered the hurt.

_How dare you..._

_...how __**dare**__ you...!_

A gunshot ran through the air at the exact time, and finally, the door at the end of the other side of the warehouse opened to a Mafioso wearing a fedora and casually placing his gun back into his jacket pocket.

Without hesitance, the Mafioso said: "You. Come with me."

--

Tsuna's eyes drifted to the gun carried rather loosely in the man's hand, heavy smell of gun powder trickling from the open door into the vast warehouse. It was strong, so there had to be...a lot of fire. As though noting his attention, the Mafioso gave a grunt.

"You." The man with a black suit and a fedora said to him, his voice like a whip. He let his limber fingers casually place the gun back into his jacket, making sure that Tsuna saw it – it was reflected in his eyes, a hint of malice of bitter dissatisfaction, but an eyebrow was raised at the sight of Tsuna's favouring his right hand. Almost an indecent smile of scorn crept onto his face at that. "Come with me."

The look the man gave him seemed filled with the slight anger that accompanied frustration – it was a familiar feeling, and Tsuna willed his body not to move, but his body stepped back with a flinch.

Memories flitted to Tsuna's mind – but the face of the man who had spent the last few years raising him had no effect on his conscience. The bitter feeling, the dull pounding aching feeling of his head filled his mind with no remorse at all. Suddenly, there was a still realization that...

Tsuna did not ask about the fate of his caretaker. He did not think he needed to. It was simple enough to understand. The caretaker was gone now. Tsuna was never going to see him again. Gone so quickly, life disappearing with a single loud sound, body slumping to the ground with a face mixed of fear and adrenaline-boosted panic.

Imagining it now, Tsuna was unable to suppress what emotions overwhelmed him. It made him shiver. His eyes went wide and Tsuna could not help but feel the corners of his mouth draw up as he shook in what he believed should've been ecstatic pleasure.

The man who had gone against everything was now gone. The man who had never bothered staying long enough was punished and reminded of disobedience. The man who _dared _do that was gone and dead_. _Yes. That was good, wasn't it? They said it was supposed to be good, everything wronged that was thoroughly repented and returned back – revenge was good.

"Tch." The Mafioso before him gave a look of disgust and annoyance, grabbing him roughly around the collar, as though this was the sheer reason why he disliked children. "Stop crying."

Tsuna couldn't. He couldn't understand why he couldn't, either.

--

The man led Tsuna through a long white corridor, several other corridors leading in and out like a maze. It was pristine white, almost too perfect. The smell of heavy soap was strong in the air, and Tsuna found it hard to breathe. He pressed the sleeve of his shirt against his nose to block out the scent, eyes never leaving the tall man's back. The consecutive footsteps of the Mafioso were almost military in precision, but they were made almost carelessly, as though the owner was daring anyone to stand against. Finally, after what seemed like forever, cold tiled floor on Tsuna's bare feet, and cold seeping in through his chilled bones, they stopped at the end of the hallway.

A single wooden door with an ancient brass knob was there, and then Tsuna met the Mafioso's eyes. Before any other words could be exchanged, Tsuna was left alone, and the echoed footsteps slowly disappeared as Tsuna stared almost blankly at the wooden door. He was quiet, and for a while, Tsuna could hear some sounds akin to scratching, furious scratching against the walls all around him. They started getting louder and louder, overpowering and layering before there was a large _BANG_ – several large bangs. Cries of animals – before – _silence._

Tsuna found himself pressed against the corner of the wall, back pressed against smooth white wall, hands flat on the wall, as close to it as he could get. Images swam over his mind, and Tsuna could not recognize any of them. Numbing pain from his right hand did nothing for him, but white everything out. For a while, he stood there like that, heart pounding and threatening to fall out of his mouth. And Tsuna was sure of it: along with it would be blood, seeping out, pouring out, running out like a blood filled river.

Tsuna didn't know, but it was the exact same feeling now, as his hands dropped from the walls and he found himself slowly inching away. His whole body shook. Back then, he had spent many a day alone wondering, thinking. Hours passed by like simple movements and actions, repetitive like nothing else. He'd look back on things, "study" them – children learned by example and knowledge, but Tsuna lived on his senses alone. He wasn't sure why he felt something amiss. His whole body shut down in the shock of anything and everything, fear, useless – vulnerability.

A certain Mafioso, decked out in an army uniform had taken to talking him one day, each time he came over, chatting nonstop about his assignments. He normally came on weekends, when Tsuna's caretaker had not been there. Blond haired and certainly without good grace – he was a cheerful person, seemingly pleased at his wounds of war, someone Tsuna hadn't reacted to – just...he hadn't felt obliged to give that man anything. There was something lurking deep in his own mindset that had told him not to speak. An underlying fear of what could've possibly happened.

Unfamiliar notions, unfamiliar sights and feelings—

"_You._"

A cruel, not amused tone cut in like a knife. The man with the fedora eyed him, dusting away what appeared to be dried blood at his jacket shoulder as he came up to him, footsteps echoing lightly in the long hallway.

"What are you still doing here? I told you to go inside."

"...I'm sorry." Tsuna did not look at him, but he raised his left hand to the doorknob.

Almost immediately, the man calmly grabbed Tsuna by the collar – rough, ungentle – and pulled him up to his eye level, as though deciding that Tsuna hadn't understood what he was saying and perhaps Tsuna needed it to be repeated. Tsuna's arms and legs felt dangled, and he felt the pressure from his neck – choking, choking, the air was stiff. His right hand was grabbed at the wrist and Tsuna had to keep from crying out as the man squeezed almost toyingly. He kept his eyes blank, but try as he might, there was a bitter feeling to them.

"Go inside. Be a good boy." That Mafioso said to him, smoothly, eyes unreadable. They chilled Tsuna to the bone, made him freeze. Everything and everything was reminded, slammed again into Tsuna's mind, and there was no doubt from those eyes that Tsuna could not see anything. There was a darkening light that was shifted and placed again – a single pawn set down for elimination. "Or they'll call me over, and we _both know_ that something like that isn't needed."

There was a slight pause, a slight twist of the wrist that Tsuna stubbornly did not react to, before – Tsuna was dropped unceremoniously down back onto the ground. It was hard and rough against his body, and he felt something crack underneath him - his hand - was it his right hand? However, he didn't scramble away. He didn't even get up from how he had landed. His eyes were cast to the ground and he didn't say anything. And instead of the emotions, raw hate that he had felt with his caretaker at the unfair actions and injustice – the hate that had blossomed to overwhelming satisfaction with – tears for no apparent reasoning...Tsuna could not – he would not.

He was completely unable to do something like that. His mind would not allow him to – he was not supposed to – for someone like this –

"They're waiting, so don't disappoint." As though reading this act of submission from Tsuna, the man lowered his arm, and opened the door for him, bowing with a rather mocking expression on his face. "You do not want me to come back, _bambino_."

His hand hurt, burned, something so numbing that it took everything he had to just walk away in what was defeat, utter and unbelievable defeat and shame, but Tsuna did not show it on his face. Behind his lips, pressed together so tightly, were grit teeth, and behind his blank eyes were tears that were not going to fall a second time.

--

Dreams were curious things. Some nights, Tsuna dreamed of smoke and ashes, flames of heightened temperatures, and eight people. Some nights, he would not remember it. Some nights, he dreamt of things restlessness, unrelenting. Some nights, they weren't even of those eight people, and maybe of gloves that withstood fire and a long fall to the unknown. They were never the same, always changing in some way or another, always so strange.

The room was not high or large enough by any means, but familiar – just _right_. Tsuna had never been here before, but as his eyes took in the large bookshelves at the corners, as well as the curtains that elegantly fell to shield the occupants of the room from outsiders, he _knew_ something – he just didn't know what.

The carpet was large and beautiful, but needlessly distracting designs on something meant only for people to walk upon. The furnishings were old and ancient, but well cared for, and on the walls were portraits of previous predecessors to the Vongola name. Tsuna's eyes felt distracted as they pulled away from what his whole body was screaming for him to look at, but at the portraits in the room. Those eight, he had seen them. Were they not the people he had seen before?

A long shadow was cast as the light fell from the stand, and Tsuna's head snapped back. The man who shifted in his seat to pick it back up met Tsuna's eyes with twinkling eyes. "Ah, Tsunayoshi. We've been waiting." He sounded amused.

Tsuna was suddenly startled, and on impulse, he took a step back, tripping onto falling. Eyes were unable to leave eyes, as the distinct buzzing in the background lessened to a silence. Tsuna was suddenly aware of the fact that the room was filled with people, and the feeling that he couldn't feel his right hand - a dull realization.

Today, he would dream about a small promise, and a young man long gone who would tell him, "_Buon compleanno."_, and this would make him wonder a great deal. But at the moment, Tsuna thought of nothing but the words whispered on his lips.

"So it is you, _Don Vongola Nono._"

* * *

END Chapter 2.


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